Triggers
by watchmedance
Summary: PTSD – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. All the Avengers feel its effects, some more than others, and while they might try their best to hide the triggers – they're always there and they're always going to show in the end.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so this may ****_appear _****to be my first fanfiction but really, it isn't. I had another account but I got peeved off with it so I made a new one. So, yeah. YOU SHALL NOT KNOW THE NAME OF IT! (Just because I like to be a pain in the butt and I like being mysterious).**

**So anyway... I don't own Avengers. **

**READ ON PEOPLE (if you want)**

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><p><strong>STEVEN ROGERS – CAPTAIN AMERICA<strong>

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><p>PTSD – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.<br>All the Avengers feel its effects, some more than others, and while they might try their best to hide the triggers – they're always there and they're always going to show in the end.

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><p>Steven Rogers was Captain America back in 1941. How could he hide under such a mask now when couldn't do such a 'simple' thing as distinguish an iPhone from an Android?<p>

Personally, he didn't understand the importance of knowing about all of the hi-tech stuff, apart from the fact that, yes, it would probably get Tony off his back. He wondered if perhaps he could be what the people called a 'superhero' if he couldn't do such simple things with technology. So, he decided to seek out Tony's advice (something he'd _never _admit to doing later).

As he jogged down the stairs – he didn't see the purpose of an elevator, did people really want to get fat? – he asked himself for the millionth time why he was doing this. In fact, why should he care about what others thought of his technology skills? Why should he care what they thought?

He paused for a moment at the bottom of the stairs before walking up to and rapping loudly on the glass door of Tony's workshop, sighing as the billionaire remained under what Steve guessed was a Lamborghini. Loud music blared, most likely AC/DC, and Steve figured that Tony was probably completely oblivious to his arrival.

"Hey, JARVIS," Steve called, hoping to get a hold of the AI. "Can you let me in?"

"Sorry Captain Rogers," JARVIS apologised immediately. "I am under strict orders from Mr Stark not to let you in. He told me that you were probably the most likely to irritate him while he was working."

Steve tried not to look hurt, so he settled for a barely audible huff and folded his arms. "What about Clint?" He demanded.

There was a pause this time and the AI's answer wasn't quite as prompt as the last. "Good point, Captain Rogers," JARVIS agreed at last. "Agent Barton is quite the troublemaker. I shall inform Mr Stark of that right away."

Steve scowled at the lack of sympathy from the British accented AI and rapped on the glass again. This time, at least, his efforts gained a rather productive result.

Tony slid out from under the silver sports car and raised his eyebrows upon seeing Steve standing impatiently at the door. "Sup, Capsicle?" He asked, though before Steve had the chance to answer, he was cut off by JARVIS.

"Captain Rogers gave me quite the enlightenment, sir," JARVIS announced. "Should I have the order to keep Agent Barton out as well as Captain Rogers?"

Tony frowned slightly. "Great idea, J," he agreed at last, nodding his head slightly. "You might want to add Spider to that list too."

"Of course, sir," Jarvis said obediently, just before Tony called out another command and the glass door slid open, allowing Steve to enter the room.

Steve was about to ask Tony who Spider was (though he had a fairly good idea that it was Agent Romanoff) when the billionaire spoke to him again, asking him what he wanted.

The Captain stepped into the workshop, the door sliding shut behind him, and looked down at Tony who was still sitting on the floor with a smear of grease across his forehead. As well as his dark pants and tightly fitted black singlet, he had a pair of black work goggles resting awkwardly on top of his messy brown hair.

"I need you to teach me the basics of modern technology." Steve's cheeks tinged a light pink as the words left his lips and he looked down at the ground, fiddling awkwardly with a loose string from his Captain America outfit.

If Tony had been expecting an answer from the older man, it certainly wasn't that. He raised his eyebrows and looked slightly taken aback, before hurriedly reverting back to his usual cool demeanor. "You want me to teach you about modern technology?" He demanded, an amused look adorning his face.

Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes and place his hands on his hips. "I don't really feel like repeating myself, da Vinci." He snapped. An amused smirk flickered across Tony's face.

"Weirdest sense of déjà vu," he muttered, before then saying louder; "I don't paint."

Steve looked at him oddly but decided against questioning the billionaire. Who knew what went through Stark's mind, even while he was sober?

"Anyway," Tony continued. "Sure, I can help, but not right now. This car has braking problems and I need to make improvements to my security system. Turns out Itsy Bitsy Spider decided to plant cameras in my room so she could monitor my sleeping patterns... bloody stalker."

Steve suppressed a smirk and decided to take the news without much of a fuss. He knew he wasn't going to get help right away; that'd probably be number fifty on Stark's to-do list.

"Butterfingers, get Capsicle and I drink, would you?" Tony gestured to what looked like a sort of silvery mechanical arm. Upon being spoken to, it made a series of mechanical clicks and wheeled off. "A coke will do, I'm trying to stay sober for the moment." The last statement took Steve by surprise. Had Tony ever actually wanted to stay sober a single day in his life?

Tony turned back to Steve and subconsciously rubbed at his forehead, smudging the grease until it resembled a rather dark rain cloud. He slid back under the car, though moments later a large thump was heard, accompanied by a fervent; "Son of a bitch!" And he slid back out from under the car again. This time, a long cut ran across his forehead, right by the dark smear of grease. It didn't look deep but, judging by the look on Tony's face, it either really hurt or stung like hell.

"Are you alright?" Steve asked worriedly. He stepped forward and leant down to examine the wound.

"I'm fine," Tony insisted. "J, check it would you?" A blue light ran across his forehead and was accompanied by JARVIS' British accent.

"The cut is rather shallow, sir," the AI informed. "Although sir, if you do not wish for an infection, I suggest antiseptic cream."

"Thanks, mother," Tony rolled his eyes. "Is there anything else?"

"Well, sir," JARVIS continued. If it was possible for an AI to sound amused, Steve could have sworn that he did. "Perhaps you could do with a _My Little Pony _band-aid?"

Steve snickered and Tony just grit his teeth and slid back under the car, Steve still snickering. However, almost straight away, Butterfingers let out a sequence of mechanical clicks and Tony groaned and slid back out again.

"Thanks Butterfingers," he muttered and staggered clumsily to his feet. He walked over to the bar in which Butterfingers had prepared the drinks and picked both glasses up. "Here," he extended his hand and handed Steve a glass of coke which he took gratefully.

However, once he looked down into the dark coloured liquid, he froze in shock. For there, floating in the sugary liquid, were three transparent ice cubes. Perhaps that may sound childish, overly dramatic and rather silly, but to Steven Rogers, they brought back horrific memories. If you had spent seventy years trapped in ice, you wouldn't be too thrilled to be staring straight at it again.

Since he had been brought up and out of the ice, he'd done his best to avoid it. Never put it in his drinks and never opened a freezer – that sort of thing. Steve knew Tony hadn't intentionally put the ice in his glass, heck; he didn't even make the drink. Tony didn't know that ice still freaked him out, even now.

You see, while the other Avengers figured that Steve probably feared planes, they couldn't have been more wrong. He'd chosen to take the plane down; he hadn't anticipated that he was going to be stuck in ice. The ice was what had saved his life, yet taken so much away from him in the process. He'd have preferred to have died rather than live a life without Peggy and Howard (not that he'd tell anybody).

And so, as he stared at the frozen blocks of ice, horrific memories cut into his mind.

_"Please, don't do this. We have time. W-we can work it out." Peggy sounded strong but inside, he knew she was breaking, pleading for something she knew would be hopeless. _

_Steve remembered arguing, breaking it to her as bluntly but as gentle as possible. He had to die. He had to die to save others. _

_"I'm here..." She knew it was inevitable, what he was going to do, he could tell by the broken tone of her voice. He tried to focus on her photo; he tried not to watch the ice that loomed in his view. _

"Steve!" Tony was shaking him as he lay on the floor. Steve didn't even remember falling. But he was cold... so cold...

_"You're gonna need a rain check on that dance," Steve tried to lighten the mood and he was grateful that Peggy couldn't see the look of terror that adorned his face. The ice was closer now. It wasn't obscured by the thick layer of clouds that used to block his vision. The ice was what scared him... The ice brought the feeling of terror that closed around his heart like a steely claw. _

_"Alright," Steve could hear it in her voice. The shaky tone which betrayed the tears that pooled in her eyes. "A week next Saturday, at the Stork Club..." Steve remembered answering her, his voice strong as ever – unlike the expression on his pale face. "Eight o'clock on the dot – don't you dare be late. Understood?" She demanded._

"Capsicle! Spangles!" Tony called in vain. His voice sounded almost terrified, a tone which Steve had never heard him use before. "What's going on?"

"You know, I still don't know how to dance," Steve mumbled and Tony shook him harder. He was slipping in and out of consciousness.

_"I'll show you how," Peggy murmured._ _"Just be there." How Steve wished he was beside her. He wished he could hold her close and be with her, rather than on this wretched plane. _

Steve felt something wet seeping into his shoulder. Perhaps it was the coke, though he didn't remember dropping that either. "We'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on your f-"

_And he collided with the ice. The plane lurched and slid into the icy water, Steve's consciousness was slipping. He struggled to stay awake. The water was pooling in and all he could think was one name; Peggy, before his eyes closed for what would be the last time in almost seventy years. _

Steve sat up with a shocked gasp and looked around wildly. "W-where am I?" he gasped. Tony was kneeling at his side, worry creasing his brow.

"You're in my lab, Steve," he comforted the frightened soldier. "You're fine. You're not in the ice anymore."

Steve was too shaken up to realise that he was being comforted by the least comforting person on earth; Tony _freaking _Stark.

"I sure hope you weren't telling me to dance with you to 'something slow'." Tony added, trying to lighten the mood, though Steve could tell that he was thoroughly shaken up by the whole ordeal. "What just happened? You took a look into the glass and just... fell...

"PTSD," Steve gasped. "Memories... Visions... Peggy... Ice..."

Tony recoiled, clearly not expecting that. He'd suffered PTSD before (unknown to the Avengers) and he knew it was _not _a great feeling. "Hey, I'm sorry." He muttered. "I can donate Butterfingers to charity if you want?"

Steve let out a shaky laugh. "Nah, he's fine," he assured the billionaire. "He didn't mean it. Just don't tell anybody."

Tony grinned. "I'll try, Cap," he promised.

If only Steve had known just how completely horrid Tony was at keeping secrets.

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><p><strong>If you're nice, you'll review... or follow... or favourite...<strong>

**If you're REALLY nice you'll do two of those**

**IF YOURE THE MOST AMAZING LEGEND EVER you'll do all three!**

**If you're just gonna critisize me then... You're a poop. HA! DO YOU FEEL OFFENDED? No, you probably don't. Oh well. I tried. :)**

**If you're gonna give me ****_constructive_****(emphasis on constructive) critisism, then... Well, maybe you're not so bad after all. Constructive critism meaning you don't just go; It sucked and your grammar stank and you can't spell and I hated it and I'm gonna go cry now...**

**So yeah, dont do that ^ Please...**

**I'm gonna shut up now. JOIN ME NEXT TIME WITH: NATASHA ROMANOFF! (Or Natalia Romanova... She's just a fake all round huh? Oh well, she's awesome.)**

**WHO'S YOUR FAV AVENGER? I can't choose outta Tony and Natasha...**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: HERE YA GO! NATASHA! **

**So, It's hard to keep her in character as well as make her have a sort of panic attack so I hope it's not too bad.**

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><p><strong>NATASHA ROMANOFF – BLACK WIDOW<strong>

PTSD – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  
>All the Avengers feel its effects, some more than others, and while they might try their best to hide the triggers – they're always there and they're always going to show in the end.<p>

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><p>Natasha Romanoff wasn't very good at portraying her emotions. She supposed it was to be expected, as she'd learned to be an assassin at the young age of eight and assassins <em>never<em> betrayedtheir emotions.

But, there were times – like now for example – where she wished that she could let others know what she was feeling. Happiness was simple; you just flashed a smile and laughed. Sadness wasn't too hard, especially when you'd spent years perfecting the art of fake crying. But _fear_... Natasha didn't show fear. She'd long since forgotten how to be scared... or so she thought.

Now, the assassin was petrified – completely and utterly petrified – and she couldn't show it.

It was fire of all things. Why couldn't she be scared of ruthless criminals or atomic bombs? Fire wasn't terrifying. Especially when it was small and contained in a little black box... where it was so completely capable of licking out and starting something big...

No way was Natasha going to admit it. She wasn't going to admit being scared of something so small and contained. Tony would scorn, Clint would give her all the comfort she really didn't want, Thor would probably laugh and Steve and Bruce would hover awkwardly to the side, making the situation even worse than it already was.

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><p>Natasha's day had started off fairly simple. She'd woken up at the unearthly hour of four in the morning, followed by a yell at Clint because he'd forgotten to take his arrows out her room (if you must know, he had pretended he was cupid. Natasha had punched him) and she'd very nearly stepped on one. She'd then gotten dressed in her usual black attire, with the tall black boots and gun strapped to her waist. Then, she'd run a brush through her cherry red curls and stalked out to the kitchen.<p>

"Morning sunshine," she was greeted by the nonchalant voice of Tony Stark, causing her to groan in response.

"Since when are you up so early, da Vinci?" she asked coolly, marching over to the coffee machine and flicking it on at the power.

Tony fixed her with a calculating stare and leaned forward on his stool, propping his elbows up on the island bench. "Did Capsicle put you up to that?" he asked suspiciously. "Because I swear-"

"No, he didn't," she cut the billionaire off and grabbed a white mug from the cupboard just above her head before spinning around and fixing him with a glare, the mug dangling from her left pinky.

"Just checking," Tony said with a roll of his eyes. He lifted his own Iron Man mug and took a sip of the dark coffee inside before setting it back down on the smooth marble bench.

Natasha watched him warily for a moment before shrugging and proceeding to prepare her own coffee. She flicked the 'on' switch on the machine and waited for the light hum of the mechanics to alert her of when it was ready. "You know," the assassin began, placing her mug under the machine's nozzle. "Steve's still not totally pleased with you for-"

This time, it was the billionaire who cut her off and not the other way around. His gaze was steely as he spoke and his eyes flashed in a kind of fury which she'd never seen before. "Don't bring that up." He spat, bringing his fist down on the table. "I've had enough of people ganging up on me for that one. I told you, it just slipped out. That was a week ago anyway. Get a life and stop badgering me."

Natasha blinked, slightly shocked. Tony had told them all about Steve's fear of ice, his PTSD, because he'd been 'worried' about the captain. He'd outlined that clearly enough after realizing he'd told everyone, though nobody had believed that he'd been genuinely worried about his comrade, save for perhaps Bruce, because usually he'd get kick of making the others squirm.

The assassin hadn't realised (despite her usual brilliance of reading emotions) that all the ganging up and anger toward him in the past week had really been taking its toll on the billionaire. She noticed for the first time, the heavy bags that resided under his usual lively eyes and the way his shoulders slumped slightly, contrary to his usual straight and proud posture.

"So..." Natasha tried to make conversation without the tiresome issue of apologizing. "You're up early."

He let out a fake laugh. "I'm up late, Spider," he corrected, shooting a glance at a glowing blue clock which hung on the wall just beside the fridge.

Natasha stared at him, eyebrows raised in shock. "Late?" she echoed turning back to the coffee machine as it let out a steady beeping noise, alerting her that her coffee had been prepared.

"Precisely," a British accent rang through the room. "He has been up for forty two hours and counting. He has not slept well since a week ago today."

Tony glared at the space in front of him, silently cursing JARVIS for telling Natasha of his sleeping patterns, something which he'd been trying to prevent ever since she'd put those cameras in his room to monitor him.

Natasha bit back a lecture and settled for moving around the counter and sitting on a stool beside him. They sat drinking their coffee in silence for a while until Clint decided to make himself known.

"Sup, da Vinci!" He called brightly, causing Tony to shoot him an irritated look.

"Why is everyone calling me da Vinci?" He demanded, swiveling around on his stool to face the archer.

Clint shrugged. "I heard Natasha say it," he said. "I was up in the vents." He pointed to a vent above his head and gestured to himself with a smug grin.

Tony glared at him. "Are you saying you _heard _that whole conversation?" He asked warily, earning an earnest nod from Clint who looked rather proud of himself. The billionaire shot him a dirty look before walking out of the room, his coffee forgotten.

Clint looked at Natasha awkwardly who just shrugged before taking a small sip of her coffee. "Don't ask," she said with a sigh, propping her elbows up on the bench and lacing her hands together.

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><p>Natasha didn't remember much of the rest of the day. She and Clint decided to train in the gym with Steve, who'd been murdering another punching bag before they'd decided to intervene. Training tended to take her mind off of other things and despite the exercise and adrenaline, it would calm her down.<p>

Other than that, she didn't remember doing much else.

However, she did remember heading down to one of the living rooms in StarkTowers that evening. It was bucketing with rain outside and the team had decided to hang out by the fire; something that made Natasha's nerves flare up. It had been Steve's idea really. He'd told everyone (aside from Tony, he'd asked Pepper to give him the message) to meet him in the living room on the tenth floor so that they could have some 'bonding time'.

To Natasha's immense surprise, Tony was already there. He was crashed out on the lounge suite with his head lolling off the side and an arm splayed awkwardly behind his back.

She walked briskly toward a smaller couch and settled down on it, trying to fight back a yawn. Steve was there too, sitting right by a pile of logs which Natasha expected were for the fire.

One by one, the other Avengers filed into the room and settled down somewhere. Clint had jogged in just after Natasha, earning a telling off from Steve who'd pointed to Tony rather urgently with his finger against his lips. In the end though, it was Thor who'd woken up the billionaire. He and Bruce had made their way into the room, Bruce talking in his usual quiet tone, when Thor had suddenly let out a large booming laugh.

Tony yawned and his eyes flickered open wearily. "Calm down, Pep," he muttered, covering his face with his arm. Clint and Steve exchanged a look before snickering into their hands, causing Thor and Bruce to raise their eyebrows in confusion at them.

"Tony!" Natasha demanded, shocking the billionaire enough to make him tumble off the couch.

He scowled at her after picking himself off the floor and slumping back on the leather lounge suite in exhaustion. However, Natasha noticed that the bags under his eyes were less prominent now and his eyes had gained a little bit of their usual sparkle back.

Steve placed the wood in the fireplace and picked up a box of matches from beside him. He flicked a match across the side of the box where the flame roared to life, causing Natasha to jump violently in her seat. She gazed transfixed at the flame and swallowed hard, gripping the sides of the couch tightly.

The captain placed the match amidst the wood and lit another. Natasha wanted to tell him to stop and to put out the fire, but she couldn't admit to her fear – no way would she let them see how terrified she was.

_"Get her out!"  
>Young Natalia Romanova was in her bedroom, terror sparking in her features. The flames roared in the hall behind them, coming closer and closer with every waiting moment. She gripped onto her mother, only to be lifted up into her arms.<br>"Catch her!" Her mother screamed. "Get her out!" _

Natasha screamed, her eyes shut tightly in her terror. "Mother!"

Clint rushed to her side, his eyes widening in realisation. "Natasha, listen to me!" he called. "You're okay! You're safe!"

_Before the young girl knew what was happening, she was tumbling out the window into the sturdy arms of a man in black. "NO! MUMMY!" She cried, barely registering her tumble and the man who held her. _

"Natasha!" Clint gripped her shoulders. "Natasha, calm down!"

Natasha took a deep shuddering breath. "No..." she moaned, her eyes flickering open slightly.

She could feel Steve's hand on her shoulder, he and Bruce whispering in hushed voices. Between the brief moments in which she opened her eyes, she could see Tony still seated on his couch, horror reflected in his eyes.

Thor was standing over her, concern causing a frown to spread across his face. "What's happening?" he asked softly.

"PTSD," Clint said, looking up. "Natasha, listen to me. You're safe, wake up."

Natasha moaned again, attempting to force her eyes open. "I..." she could feel her cheeks heating up in her embarrassment of being caught in such a weak state. She sat up shakily, taking slow deep breaths. "I'm alright... Guess you're not the only one, huh Steve?"

Steve shot her a watery smile. "Guess not."

Everyone looked warily at Tony, expecting him to laugh at her for her PSTD, a gesture which he noticed. He scowled, his eyes darkening a fraction of a degree before he finally snapped. "Oh yeah," he snapped. "I missed my cue. Ha, ha Natasha, you're scared of fire." The sarcasm rolled off his tongue like the water which bucketed from the clouds outside. He stood up and shot them all a look of frustration and sheer anger. "Whatever, I'm leaving."

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><p><strong>AN: Now, I've never suffered PTSD, so I do try and make it seem as realistic as possible. I'm sorry if it sucks. I also realise that Tony might be slightly OOC, but it's all for a reason folks!**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Next one is... Bruce! Then Cint, then Tony. (Yeah, Tony's last - I have my reasons :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Perhaps not my best work but hey, its up and its not completely TERRIBLE. That has to count for something right? **

**DISCLAIMER: I DONT OWN AVENGERS. JEEZ, HOW MANY TIMES MUST I SAY THIS... -_-**

**READ ON!**

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><p><strong>DR BRUCE BANNER – HULK<strong>

PTSD – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  
>All the Avengers feel its effects, some more than others, and while they might try their best to hide the triggers – they're always there and they're always going to show in the end.<p>

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><p>Dr. Bruce Banner was logical, he was strong and he was indestructible – that didn't necessarily mean all his friends possessed those same qualities.<p>

So, when he and the other Avengers found themselves on the roof of StarkTower, he hadn't been worried for his own safety; he'd been scared for Tony. Normally, he wouldn't care. But this time, Tony was practically begging to jump off the building and Natasha had stated bluntly; "My case is closed, he really is suicidal." Bruce had to agree.

Although Tony was a brilliant engineer, Bruce didn't think any of his crazy ideas could save him in this situation. He'd told them all multiple times not to worry, he had complete faith in his (and I quote) 'legendary ideas of awesomeness'.

"Oh I'm not scared for your life," Clint assured him, eyes wide. "I'm scared Fury's gonna kick us all into next year if one of us dies because of a stupid stunt." At this, Tony scowled and folded his arms across his chest.

Natasha snorted in agreement. "Damn right," she muttered, examining her fingernails and leaning heavily on her right leg due to a large wound on her left.

Tony rolled his eyes. "I'll be fine," he sighed, thoroughly exasperated now.

Steve frowned. "Don't you dare," he said threateningly. "You owe me for telling everybody about the PTSD – don't jump."

Tony huffed in defeat. "But I've built a giant metal pizza that was gonna fly out and save me!" He rolled his eyes as Steve's glare intensified. "Chill, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you cared about me."

Steve clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, clearly trying not to snap at the billionaire. His whole body looked tense, as if he were planning to spring forward (which he probably was, if Tony jumped).

Resting on the ground, star facing down, was the captain's shield. It had been dropped and long since forgotten after Tony brought up the idea of jumping off the roof. This brought another thought to Bruce's already messed up mind – how the heck they'd gotten on the roof to begin with.

Now, it had all started with an attack of tiger-sized bees and crazy mutant fly thingies. Bruce (or Hulk) had smashed the last one into oblivion, green ooze covering his already green hide like an extra wrapping as the 'crazy mutant fly thingy' exploded under his giant fist. He'd then let out an ear-splitting roar, baring his teeth in an intimidating fashion, signaling to the team that they'd won.

Steve had come running around the corner first, breathing heavily. His shield was under his arm and a large tear ran across his mask like jagged ice. Other than that, he looked completely fine, mostly worn out and tired.

Natasha and Clint had come next. Clint still had his bow in his hands with an arrow notched on it, pointing at the ground. Natasha was beside him, leaning heavily on Clint's side due to what looked like a giant bee sting on her left leg. A gun still resided in her shaky hands, accompanying the fierce look on her face.

"Da Vinci?" Clint asked, panting slightly.

Steve shrugged and Hulk roared, frowning even heavier than usual. Natasha just looked up and pointed toward StarkTower where a streak of red and gold was shooting toward the roof.

"Wish we had Thor here," Clint muttered, training his eyes to where she was pointing.

She nodded blankly. "Idiot," she murmured, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

So, the team had marched into the building, Bruce getting de-hulkified in the process and running to put some clothes on. Steve lead the way and they all filed into the lift before Steve hit the button titled; ROOF.

The lift scaled the building and an abrupt _ding _signaled the silent opening of the metallic doors. Together, Steve, Clint and Natasha walked out of the lift and toward Tony whose armor had already been discarded.

"What the heck are you doing?" Natasha demanded. "We have a debriefing meeting in five minutes!"

The billionaire shrugged. "Since when have I ever cared about getting to meetings on time?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. "Anyway, I'm trying to jump off a building."

"You're trying to do _what_ exactly?" Bruce demanded, causing Steve to jump and spin around, evidently unaware of the scientist's presence until now.

"I'm gonna jump off this building," Tony said slowly. "My legendary inventions of awesomeness are gonna rock this joint and save me from dying!" He added proudly.

Steve's shield fell to the ground with a soft thump, bringing us back to where we were earlier – with Steve facing Tony, his jaw clenched, narrowed eyes and tense posture.

The billionaire and captain faced off for another moment until Tony let out a loud huff of frustration and anger before storming past the team and toward the elevator, leaving everyone staring at him in complete and utter confusion.

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><p>It was half an hour later. Tony had evidently left the tower (according to JARVIS) and had most likely gone to vent off some steam.<p>

Lately, Tony had reminded Bruce of a time bomb. His patience was ticking and nobody knew when they were going to strike a nerve and set him off. Bruce just figured the whole PTSD incident was freaking him out a little.

The team was hanging around the kitchen. Natasha was sitting on a stool, her leg still looking sore and inflamed. Bruce was cooking up chicken schnitzel and various vegetables while Clint was attempting to help, only doing more harm than good. Steve was seated beside Natasha, his nose buried in a newspaper.

"Mr Tony Stark is in an alleyway two blocks away from here." JARVIS informed, catching Bruce's immediate attention. "He is rather terrified and is currently staring at the body of a dead woman – probably in her late forties."

Bruce flinched. No... No he would not think about it...

_"Don't hit him, Brian!" Rebecca Banner, Bruce's mother pleaded. She moved to stand in front of her terrified son and held out her arms to shield him. "He's just a boy!"_

_"He's a mutant!" Brian Banner, Bruce's father spat in his terribly drunken state. _

Bruce placed his hands on his head and tried to push the memories away. _No... No... _

"You okay, Bruce?" Steve asked, though he looked rather distracted about the information that JARVIS had just shared with them.

"I..." Bruce shook his head. "Yeah... Yeah I'm good. Let's just find Tony..."

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><p>"Tony!" Steve called down the dark alleyway before them.<p>

"Quick!" The billionaire called back, his voice hoarse and terrified. "She... She looks dead..." The team ran toward him, Natasha's leg protesting vainly against every step she took with it.

As Bruce looked at the woman, he noted the fiery red hair that fanned around her face and the pale skin that spread across her body. Her eyes were open, the ghost of a scream etched across her features. Her left arm was splayed out at an awkward angle while her right rested across the long green dress that covered her figure.

The worst part was the blood that spread across her stomach under her hand. What looked like stab wounds littered her abdomen and if she was breathing at all, the movement wasn't visible whatsoever.

_Bruce didn't quite know what happened next but suddenly his mother was lying on the floor... When had that happened? He looked up at his father in terror; the man was standing over his mother's unmoving body, hatred in his eyes. _

_"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" Bruce wailed, fighting back tears. _

_Brian moved his head to train his eyes on his son, his eyes twitching angrily. "She deserved it. She loved you more than me." _

_He lifted his left hand and Bruce noticed for the first time the metal knife glittering in his hand. _

_The boy screamed, his chest heaving as he fought back sobs of terror and remorse. _

Bruce was curled on the ground, a scream emitting from his lungs. "MOTHER!" He screamed, fighting back the Hulk that rose within him.

He shuddered and bit back another scream, tears glistening in his eyes. No... He had to fight it. It was just a memory...

"Bruce..." Tony's hand was on his shoulder. "You'll be okay. You're fine. Fight it – they're just memories."

Combined with his will and Tony's reassurance, Bruce managed to blink his eyes open. _Fight the Hulk... Fight the memories... Push them back... _He muttered in his head.

With one last final effort, Bruce managed to pull himself into a sitting position and look at the woman. He couldn't let the PTSD overcome him... No... He was Dr. Bruce Banner. He was logical, he was strong and he was indestructible.

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><p><strong>AN: YEEEEHAW! GO BRUCIE! FIGHT DA HULK! WOOHOOO! Okay, I'm calm... I'm calm...**

**DROP A REVIEW AND TELL ME WHAT YA THOUGHT!? PWEAAAAAAASEEEEE?**

**WHAT'S UP WITH ME AND CAPITAL LETTERS TODAY? 0_o**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Yeah, I'm updating again. Proud of me? I hope so. I'm kinda proud of this chapter. And BTW, Tony is ****_supposed _****to be OOC.**

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><p><strong>CLINT BARTON - HAWKEYE <strong>

PTSD – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  
>All the Avengers feel its effects, some more than others, and while they might try their best to hide the triggers – they're always there and they're always going to show in the end.<p>

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><p>Clint liked to avoid eyes; especially <em>blue<em> eyes.

He hadn't had many good experiences with eyes in his life, however weird that may come across as. His own eyes had changed to a piercing blue when he had been briefly possessed by Loki, and when he'd asked for an eye (not in his right mind of course) Loki had gone out and extracted an eye from a poor defenseless man. So yeah, Clint had an eye phobia – sue him.

Although, he liked Natasha's eyes – not that he'd actually tell anyone. Natasha's eyes were emotionless, something that Clint, unlike others, found comforting. It wasn't as though he found eyes particularly unnerving (though, Stark's eyes could do that to him), it was more so that he was _scared _of them. He was scared of the curiosity and emotions that were always showing in them. He was scared of the way that most SHIELD agents looked at him like he was a traitor. He wasn't scared of eyes – he was scared of what showed in them.

So, as he sat in the interrogation room which Tony had built in StarkTower, he wondered why the emotionless blue eyes in front of him were so terrible, when he had next to no troubles with Natasha's own emotionless eyes.

Clint smoothened out the papers in front of him and scanned them quickly, all the while keeping his attention on the murderer sitting before him. "I'm here to question you about the murder of Miss Mary-Anne Frazer." He stated, referring to the red-haired woman whom Stark had run into in the dark alley way earlier that week.

It had turned out that she was the forty two year old daughter of an ex-SHIELD agent who was now in her early sixties. She'd been on her way to StarkTower under the impression that Tony could help her gain access to her mother's files, when she had been brutally attacked and murdered by Jonathan Green, the blue eyed man sitting opposite Clint.

"I swear," Jonathan held up his hands in surrender, as well as he could with his wrists cuffed together. "I didn't do it, man. I was totally wasted that night and at my mum's pad."

"Hence your inability to remember your actions that night," Clint snapped. "All the evidence points to you; your fingerprints on the weapon which had been left behind at the scene and witnesses who saw a man with your description enter the alleyway that night."

"It was dark, man. How do they know what they saw?"

Clint ignored him and continued speaking, still looking at the papers in front of him. "And if you had, in fact, been at your mother's," he began, placing an index finger on a short paragraph on a paper. "How do I have evidence that she lives in Perth, Western Australia?"

Clint's interrogation victim swallowed and, despite Clint's determination not to make eye contact, he could see guilt creeping into Jonathan's eyes out the corner of his own vision. "I... Okay, maybe I was at my dad's; the details are a little fuzzy."

"Do me a favor," Clint said, standing up and placing his hands on the table, making eye contact for the first time. "Get yourself a lawyer; I can't be bothered with this shit."

He spun around on his heel and stormed out of the interrogation room, letting his feet take him to the lift as a whirlwind of thoughts viciously attacked his mind.

Mary-Anne... The unnerving eyes of his interrogation victim... Natasha... PTSD... Tony's incredibly weird behaviour lately... Personally, all Clint felt like doing was screaming. That'd calm him down... probably...

He barely noticed as he stepped into the lift and pressed the button labelled; F6. His eyes barely focused on his surroundings and he was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't even notice where he was.

The elevator moved up quickly, Clint focusing his attention on one thought; Tony's defensive and snappish behaviour recently. In fact, as the lift dinged and the doors slid open, he was proud of himself for managing to remain on one thought train for even ten seconds.

As he stepped out of the lift and into the kitchen, he decided to voice his thoughts, not really registering the consequences. "Hey, Tony," Clint began, interrupting a heated conversation between Bruce and the billionaire. "What's up with your weird behaviour lately?"

Tony flicked his eyes toward the archer and scowled. He decided to ignore the question and stormed out the kitchen towards the dining room next door, muttering something along the lines of; "Bloody Birdbrain..."

Bruce sighed and turned to face Clint. "What was that for?" he demanded, waving a spatula in the air in his exasperation.

"What was what for?" Clint shot back, folding his arms across his chest and looking down at Natasha, who was sitting on a stool and cradling a cup of coffee in her hands.

"You know, what you just said," Bruce frowned, waving his hands in the air, accidentally letting go of the spatula in the process and sending it flying. Natasha looked up from her coffee and toward the spot where the spatula had landed into the sink, dislodging a few plates from where they had previously been resting. "I was actually engaging in the first normal conversation anyone's had with him for the last two weeks and then, bam, you have to come in and frustrate him."

"Bam?" Clint asked, raising his eyebrows and tilting his face to look at a spot just above the scientist's head.

"Bam," Bruce agreed, clapping his hands together for effect. "Granted, our conversation was about chocolate of all things but... It's better than the murder of... of..." He shuddered and left his sentence hanging.

"Chocolate?" Natasha asked innocently. "I thought you were talking about Steve?"

Bruce shot her a strange look. "In no way is Steve considered 'yummy'." He said hotly, a rather mortified look crossing his features.

"I think I just heard the wrong end of that conversation," Steve's voice resonated from the direction of the lift, causing all three to jump and turn around. The captain was standing in front of the closed doors with his brown leather jacket on over the top of a plain white shirt. His arms were folded and his eyebrows were raised in amusement. "Don't worry, I won't ask."

Bruce smiled thankfully at him and Natasha and Clint exchanged looks before Clint snickered into his hands and Natasha just rolled her eyes at his childish behaviour.

"Anyway, where's Tony?" Steve asked, looking around the room as though the billionaire might be hiding.

Bruce just answered his question by pointing soundlessly toward the dining room with a barely inaudible sigh and Steve nodded in response. "All this shell shock, I mean, PTSD, must really be getting to him..." he muttered. "Anyway, we need you to come back to interrogation, Fury wasn't happy with the way you walked out like that."

Clint shrugged. "He gave me the creeps. What did he expect me to do, have a civilized conversation with a murderer?"

Steve nodded. "He wanted you to do exactly that." He said seriously. "Come on."

Clint sighed and walked over to the captain. "You guys coming?" he asked, looking at the other two with raised eyebrows.

Bruce walked toward them with a resigned sigh and Natasha wordlessly got to her feet and marched toward them.

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><p>Clint sat opposite Jonathan once again, looking anywhere but his eyes. He scanned the tousled blonde hair on his head and the slight point of his rather large nose. He took in his rather long neck and thin frame and the deathly pale hue to his skin. Anything but the eyes...<p>

He opened his mouth to speak but was cut of by the door flinging open and a rather furious Tony Stark storming into the room toward Jonathan. Before Clint could react, the billionaire had the collar of Jonathan's shirt in his fist, forcing him to his feet.

"Did you do it or not?" he growled, slamming the man against a wall. "Tell me!"

"I didn't do it!" Jonathan gasped, struggling to breathe.

"Don't lie to me!" Tony spat, gripping his collar tighter. "That was Pepper's Aunt. Do you have any idea how distraught she is?"

Jonathan's eyes widened. "I did it okay?" He rasped. "I did it. I was drunk. I wasn't thinking straight!"

Clint tried to rush forward and intervene but Tony let him go, a look of disgust gracing his features. He turned to the archer and mock bowed. "That's how you interrogate someone. Goodbye." He stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

Clint blinked in shock. Perhaps he'd just imagined it... That was so un-Tony like it wasn't funny. He pressed his hand to his ear and spoke to Natasha through their earpieces. "Did that just happen?" he demanded.

"I saw what you saw. Tony went nuts..." She said back and he could picture her staring into the computer scene and watching the scene blankly, in as much shock as her partner.

Clint looked down at Jonathan, making eye contact for a grand total of two times in one day.

_"What did it show you, Agent Barton?" _

No, this couldn't be happening. He'd made eye contact before and it hadn't triggered anything. No...

_"My next target," Clint said bluntly, turning to face Loki. _

_"Tell me what you need," Loki said softly, looking into his blue eyes. _

_The archer turned around and walked toward a black case containing his bow. "A distraction," he said, pulling out his black bow. "And an eyeball." _

Clint sank to the ground, gritting his teeth. "No... Stupid... stupid..."

"Clint...?" Natasha's voice sounded through his ear piece. "Are you okay?"

Clint couldn't answer. The agony of the memory was rushing through him. The same sense of not being able to control his own body was enough to make him want to explode.

_Clint pulled back the arrow and let it fly, hitting the guard with perfect aim. He spun around, grateful for the shadow, and let another fly and saw it hit its mark. He grunted in satisfaction as it hit a second guard and caused him to tumble off the building. _

"No, you idiot," Clint cursed himself, holding his head.

"Clint!" Natasha was beside him now, her hands on his shoulders. "Focus! Wake up!"

Clint doubled over and groaned. "No... Why am I doing this? What am I doing?"

Natasha gripped him tighter and shook the archer more forcefully; shaking him out of his stupor and jolting him back into the present time. She glanced at Jonathan, who was still slumped on the floor, and back at Clint who was blinking in confusion.

"What just happened?" He murmured, looking up shakily.

Natasha frowned grimly. "PTSD," she said. "Again."

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><p><strong>AN: Was it okay or did it stink? PLS DROP A REVIEW AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT!**

**Next chapter is the last: TONY STARK - IRON MAN**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So I'm not totally sure about the end of this chapter - I suck at endings but I had to get it up and I couldn't think of any other way to end it so...**

**THANKS to EVERYONE who read this story from beginning to end. Thanks for all the positive reviews, I honestly wasn't even expecting many at all so it was a pleasant surprise to get all the follows and stuff... THANKYOU THANKYOU THANKYOU!**

**I DONT OWN THE AVENGERS! ALL RIGHTS GO TO MARVEL AND WHOEVER THE HECK GOES INTO THE MOVIES.**

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><p><strong>TONY STARK - IRON MAN<strong>

PTSD - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  
>All the Avengers feel its effects, some more than others, and while they might try their best to hide the triggers - they're always there and they're always going to show in the end.<p>

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><p><em>Deep breaths, Stark<em>...Tony chanted, over and over again in his head. He gripped onto the metal pole running along the side of the elevator for support, not trusting his own legs to keep him standing on their own.

What had he done? He couldn't describe the intense rage that had gripped him in the interrogation room; the rage that had driven him to attack the murderer like that. Perhaps Pepper's devastation upon learning that it had been her aunt who'd been killed had driven him to such fury. Pepper had been crying and Tony didn't like to see her cry like that.

He hated to watch as her body shuddered with uncontrollable sobs and the sniffles that accompanied the tears - especially since there wasn't much he could do to help her. So, Tony had taken his anger out on the one thing that had upset her - Jonathan Green, the drunken murderer.

Yes, Tony could call him a murderer, just as well as he could call him a target or a drunk – because he'd full well earned those titles.  
>The elevator dinged, the doors slid open and Tony had to drag himself along the length of the pole in order to get out before the doors closed on him. He staggered out, fully relieved at the discovery that, yes, his own legs would hold him up and he didn't have to flop onto the floor like a newborn baby.<p>

He called for Pepper and was horrified at the hoarse, weak, tone of his own voice. He doubted anyone would be able to hear him from a metre away. In fact, he didn't even know where Pepper was - she could've been anywhere in the tower by now.

"Miss Potts is in the Interrogation Viewing Room, sir," JARVIS informed helpfully, his British accent echoing through the vast room.

"Thanks JARVIS," Tony muttered, hobbling toward a white leather couch and slumping down on it in exhaustion. As soon as he laid his head down on the armrest, his eyes flickered shut and he found himself drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

When Pepper got in half an hour later, she found Tony fast asleep on the couch in a rather uncomfortable position.

With his head lolling off the couch as well as his right arm and leg, she wondered how he hadn't woken up earlier. As she watched him, he let out a rather loud huff and mumbled something incoherent in his sleep causing a small smile to twitch at the corners of her lips.  
>She walked over to him and tried to lay down next to him, causing him to stir. "Hey Pep," he mumbled, shifting slightly to allow her some space on the couch.<p>

"Hey Tony," she whispered, settling down in his arms. The billionaire fell asleep almost immediately, something Pepper suspected was probably because he was already half asleep.

She, however, took a lot longer. Sleep was blocked with terrifying thoughts of her aunt and stressful thoughts of her job as CEO of Stark Industries, and when she did manage to fall asleep, it was quite a fitful slumber and not at all relaxing.

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><p>Natasha emerged from the steel lift at ten o'clock that night, rubbing her eyes and yawning tiredly. It wasn't until she almost sat on top of them that she realised Pepper and Tony were even there.<p>

A rare smile twitched at the corner's of the agent's mouth as she looked at them lying comfortably on the soft leather. Somehow during the night, Pepper had rolled onto Tony's stomach and had her face buried in his neck. His arms were wrapped around her waist tightly and as she slept, a small smile crept its way across her lips.

Natasha moved to sit down on a couch opposite with a barely audible sigh and it wasn't long after when the lift dinged again, Bruce, Steve and Clint all walking through the doors.

"I'm having a chat with him," Clint snapped loudly, his arms folded across his chest.

"I know," Steve said, a troubled frown spreading across his face. "That's no way to interrogate someone, even if he is a murderer."

Bruce ran a hand through his dark hair and bit his lip uncomfortably. "Don't be too harsh on him," he murmured. "He hasn't really been himself lately.

Clint opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted when a black heel went flying at his face. He looked in the direction that it had come from and frowned as his gaze met Natasha's furious expression. _What? _He mouthed in irritation.

Natasha just pointed at Tony and Pepper on the couch and Clint bit his lip and had the decency to look slightly apologetic. Steve muttered a quick sorry while Bruce just smiled.

"I still want to chat to him," Clint said, quieter this time. "I don't care if he's with his girlfriend."

On the couch, Tony stirred slightly and yawned widely. "Don't worry Natashalie, I'm awake," he muttered opening his eyes and trying to move before finding out that he couldn't.

"What about Pepper?" Natasha asked. When receiving no answer, she shrugged and turned back to Clint, shooting him a warning glance which he ignored.

"What the heck were you thinking?" Clint whispered, his eyes flashing dangerously. "That has got to be the single most stupid thing I've ever seen in my life!"

"Well it got the information out of him," Tony retaliated, eyes narrowed angrily. "Personally, I don't see the problem with what I did – he murdered someone so I gave him a heck of a scare in return." The billionaire tried to sound certain but Clint could tell he was more so trying to reassure himself rather than anyone else.

"I don't care," Clint snapped in a low tone, his jaw clenched in anger.

Tony's eyes darkened and he clenched his fists, causing his knuckles to turn white. He was about to say something... not very nice, when Pepper stirred on top of him. "What's going on?" she mumbled, her eyes flickering open. Her gaze shifted around the room, first to Tony underneath her, then to Natasha sitting lazily on a couch opposite before sweeping over Bruce, Steve and Clint. She was shocked at the fury flashing in Clint's dark eyes, the resignation in Bruce's and the unease flickering in Steve's. "I think you all need to calm down." She said, slightly more forcefully before rolling off of Tony's stomach and standing beside the couch with her hands firmly planted on her hips.

"Tell that to him," Clint pointed at Tony, determination set in his gaze. "He's a freaking drama queen who thinks his problems are that much more important than everyone else's."

"Whoa, hold up," Tony held his hands up and raised his eyebrows. "When did all my problems come into this?"

"Right about now," Clint said coolly. "Because I'm sorry – you aren't more important than us, you have less to worry about than us and you don't suffer from PTSD." Pepper winced, her anger at the archer flaring dangerously.

"PTSD?" Tony spluttered. "When did that come into all this? What are you even talking about?" He sighed heavily. "You know what? I don't care. I'm leaving."

He marched up to the elevator, the doors opening almost straight away, and told JARVIS to take him down to the pools.

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><p>The team (minus Thor and Tony) and Pepper walked into the pools around ten minutes later. Tony was sitting on a seat beside the crystal clear water with his knees brought up to his chest and a look of terror on his pale face. Clearly he hadn't gone swimming because he was still completely dry – not a drop of water on him at all.<p>

Pepper was immediately aware of the situation and marched right up to his side. "You're getting out of here _now,_"she ordered firmly, grasping his right arm and attempting to haul him to his feat.

The team shot each other awkward looks and Natasha was about to ask Pepper what was going on when Tony mumbled something barely audible. _Yinsen_.

"Too late," Pepper muttered, more to herself than anything else. "Tony, you have to snap out of it. Get up, come on."

The billionaire seemed to realise for the first time that they were all there and looked up, his eyes glassy and unfocussed. "My fault..." he murmured. "I was too slow..."

"It wasn't your fault," Pepper said soothingly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "He chose to save you."

Tony looked like he was about to reply when a shudder passed through his body and his eyes flickered shut.

_"We need more time..." Yinsen murmured softly and Tony prayed it was only his imagination. Yinsen wouldn't sacrifice himself – not if he could help it. "Hey," he turned back to Tony, an almost apologetic look on his face. "I'm gonna go buy you some time." _

_Tony's eyes widened and he wanted to help, he really did but he was stuck in the suit. _

"Stick to the plan!" Tony yelled. He twitched on the chair, his breaths fast and ragged as though he was running a marathon.

Clint and Natasha exchanged looks and Bruce ran to Natasha's side muttering a quick; "What's wrong with him?"

_The scene changed, that man asking him to build a Jericho missile. "I refuse," Tony said fiercely, knowing full well that if they got what they wanted, millions of people would die. _

_Again, the scene changed and they were forcing his head into the water. Water boarding... Tony had heard of this sort of torture before and never had he fully realised the extent of the pain – unless that was just mostly his arc reactor shocking him constantly. _

Tony cried out in pain, shaking in terror as the memories hit him. _So cold... So much pain... _

"Tony, wake up," Pepper's voice was no longer soft, but demanding and strong. "Don't let it get to you. It's all over."

Tony shuddered, more memories threaten to take over him when Natasha marched up to him and slapped him across the face. "Stark! Wake up!"

The billionaire jumped and his eyes snapped open, a hand flying to his sore cheek. "I'm awake," he mumbled, swallowing hard. His throat felt like it was on fire and he felt like there was a shard of glass stuck in the flesh.

Clint coughed to gain some attention and looked down at the floor in shame. "I was wrong to say you didn't have as much to worry about as the rest of us, so I'm sorry."

Tony looked up at him and a smile twitched at the corners of his lips. "Apology accepted," he said, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

Clint looked up and grinned at him. "This whole PTSD thing is giving me the shits." He said bluntly. "But at least now we know what sets each other off. At least we know the triggers."

**A/N: Wow... Its all over... Well anyway, now I'm off to think of more story ideas (for Avengers, PJO or Harry Potter :)**


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